


The Nature of Fixed Stars

by OzQueen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Praise, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-14 02:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: The universe can divide Shiro up into a million little pieces, and Lance will track down every single fragment and put him back together again.





	The Nature of Fixed Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeiouna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeiouna/gifts).



* * *

 

 _It’s like I’m not myself_.

Shiro’s words run through Lance's mind again and again. He looks around, but the others are still trying to restore power to the ship; Lotor and Allura are probably being eaten by a white lion made of light…

He frowns and swallows back his anger again, looking over at Shiro sitting beside him in the empty corridor. Lately, thinking about Shiro hurts in a way he can't explain. Like maybe there’s something wrong, and Lance just doesn’t want to admit it. And the possibility of Allura disappearing into thin air is grinding on a nerve deep inside Lance's chest, and he can't quite put his finger on why. 

 _Shiro came back_ , he tells himself, look at the man in front of him.  _He disappeared, but he came back. He's right here, but..._

“You don’t really seem like yourself,” he says quietly, and Shiro looks up at him, his eyes suddenly sharp. Just moments ago Lance had assured Shiro his odd feeling about himself was a lack of oxygen.

“What do you mean?” Shiro asks.

Lance looks at him. The lights on Shiro’s paladin armor cast a blue sheen over his cheeks and highlight the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Lance says, wishing he’d said nothing. “You look like you. You talk like you. You’re just…” _Not acting like you._

Shiro rubs a gloved thumb over a graze on his armor.

“But,” Lance hastens to add, “I mean, Shiro — all that time you’ve spent with the Galra? The things that they did to you…” He falters when Shiro’s eyes flick up at him again. “We don’t know what you’ve been through. It’s okay to not be the same as you were...”

Shiro doesn’t say anything. He rubs at the graze on his armor again, and then he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Lance says, suddenly feeling like he’s overstaying his welcome, or he’s said the wrong thing, or maybe Shiro just needs to be alone. Shiro doesn’t protest as Lance walks away.

There’s a sick feeling in his stomach. He knows he’s made Shiro feel worse, but at the same time he thinks what he said was right. Shiro’s not himself, but can anyone expect him to be? It seems right to assume his time with the Galra changed him. It seems right to have Shiro changed, to have a different version of him with them, and yet…

Lance can’t forget the sound of Shiro’s voice calling to him within the dark spaces of Voltron. Just thinking about it sends a shiver down his spine and turns his skin warm.

He comes to a window, and watches the drifting wreckage of broken ships silently collide and scatter in the blackness. The Black Lion is aimlessly passing, its eyes dark, its body carving a wide path in the debris. Lance watches it, a lump in his throat.

 _The oxygen must be getting really low_ , he thinks to himself as a weak excuse. But the lump doesn’t go away and his heart keeps pounding hard in his chest, and he keeps hearing Shiro calling his name over and over again.

 

* * *

 

“You’re quiet,” Hunk says around a thick mouthful of food.

Lance pokes at the green goo clumping together on his plate. “Am I?”

“Are you okay?”

Lance glances aside, but it’s just the two of them. Everyone else has finished eating, or didn’t bother coming to eat at all. Lance is still there because he’s been poking at his food instead of eating it; Hunk is still there because he wanted seconds. Or maybe because he wanted to talk to Lance.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with Shiro?” Lance asks quietly.

Hunk takes the time to consider his question. “He’s kinda grumpy lately,” he says. “But we’re tired, man. At least, I am. There’s no break from any of this.” He gestures with his spoon. “And Shiro puts a lot of pressure on himself. I think he’s just trying really hard to do the right thing, but it’s getting harder and harder to figure out what the right thing is.”

“Yeah,” Lance agrees, but that’s not what he’d meant. That’s not what he’d wanted to hear.

Shiro has been his hero basically since he had had first heard of him. Lance had wanted people to talk about him like they talked about Shiro — _He’s a great pilot; he’s a great leader; he’s a great guy; if I had to follow anyone into space I’d want it to be Shiro._

“Maybe the shine is just wearing off,” Lance says glumly, looking back at his plate.

“Yeah, maybe you’re just seeing the real Shiro,” Hunk says, not unkindly. “You know him better now. You can’t hold him to such high standards anymore because he’s just another guy on the team. A guy who has made a few mistakes lately.”

“That must be it,” Lance says, and he pats Hunk’s shoulder on his way out.

But his neck and shoulders feel tight and that awful lead feeling is still in his gut, and he can’t stop thinking about Shiro snapping at him. He can’t stop thinking about Allura confiding how difficult Shiro has been lately.He can’t stop thinking about Shiro standing beside him on Olkarion.

He had known then. He had known then that there was something wrong. Somehow, the man calling for him across the void hadn’t matched the man standing with him in front of the orange sky.

 

* * *

 

Lance watches Shiro. Watches him run hot with passionate ideas and theories, watches him tighten his jaw at every gently-worded denial or challenge the team counters him with. They’re rarely in agreement these days, why can’t anyone else see how wrong all of this is?

Lance longs for a chance to join the void again — to look across the rushing blue and see Shiro again, to talk to him there and there only. It had felt right in the void; it hasn’t felt right since.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, lately,” Allura confides in him one evening, and instead of sending him soaring, it makes his stomach ache. “You’re becoming a real leader, Lance.”

Lance grins and winks at her, and she smiles and rolls her eyes, a habit she’s picked up from any one of them. He feels stupid, and lost. He doesn’t want to be leader. Even when Shiro had disappeared, Keith was supposed to be leader.

 _Keith was a terrible leader_ , he thinks, and adding another thin layer to his old rivalry makes him feel better for a moment or two.

He remembers sitting in the Black Lion, desperately wanting to waken it; desperately wanting to prove how far he’d come and how worthy he was.

He glances towards the hangar, and he wonders.

 

* * *

 

It feels like more of an intrusion this time. Shiro isn’t missing anymore — he’s somewhere within the castle, and Black is _his_ lion. Lance feels like he’s trespassing.

He sits at the controls and looks out over the hangar. Everything is still. He leans back in the pilot’s seat and closes his eyes, forcing himself to slow his breathing. Listening to his heartbeat.

 _I don’t want to be leader,_ he tells Black. _But it’d be nice to have some kind of a sign that I could be. That I could be like Shiro._

There’s a flare of light so bright he throws his hand up in front of his eyes before he remembers they’re closed. He gasps, feels the pressure of speed and weight and space throw him back against the seat. He smells ozone and he coughs and opens his eyes with a gasp, only the hangar isn’t there anymore. Neither is the Black Lion.

Instead, there is a vast space filled with stars. Clouds streak the dark sky.

“Uh-oh,” Lance says. He squeezes his eyes closed. _Take-me-back-take-me-back-take-me-back-take-me-back…_

He cracks one eye open, hoping to see the hangar, but the vast space remains. He swallows and looks around. It’s not the same void as before, but then… he had five lions then. He had Voltron. Maybe this is the best Black can do alone.

“Shiro?” He asks hesitantly. Afraid of a response. Afraid of none. He turns around, but the Black Lion is nowhere to be seen. The darkness stretches beyond Lance’s ability to see. The stars wink and shine all around him. The clouds drift overhead.

“Lance.”

He almost jumps out of his skin. He spins on the spot, the soles of his shoes scraping across rock dust, his fists raised and ready to fight.

“I knew you’d find me.” Shiro stands ahead of him, ghostly, silhouetted in blue.

Lance runs — he flings himself at Shiro, wondering too late if this transparent state will disappear right through him and leave him sprawled on the ground.

But no, Shiro’s arms come around him tightly, Lance’s face buries into the warm curve of his neck. Despite appearances, he’s solid and real and Lance lets out two sobs before he finally manages to croak, “Where’ve you been?”

Shiro gives a helpless laugh. Lance feels his breath against his hair; Shiro’s fingers tighten in the worn material of his old sweatshirt. He hugs him tightly.

They stand like that for a long time. Lance closes his eyes, tears drying on his lashes. He buries his face against Shiro’s shoulder and listens to his own heartbeat slowing to something deep and pleasant. Shiro’s arms stay tightly locked against him.

“I knew you’d find me,” Shiro says again. He pulls back, but Lance keeps his hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into him so he can’t slip away.

He looks up at Shiro — the _real_ Shiro. There’s no doubt in his mind. He can’t think now what differences there are between the Shiro back in the ship and the man standing in front of him now, but he’s sure they’re there, because there’s no possible way the man in front of him can’t be Takashi Shirogane, legendary pilot, Paladin of the Black Lion, leader of Voltron…

“Lance,” Shiro murmurs.

“I found you!” Lance blurts, snapping out of his reverie. “You’re here — what are you _doing_ here? How’d you get here? Does anyone —”

“Whoa,” Shiro says with an easy smile. He squeezes Lance’s wrist gently.

“I knew there was something wrong,” Lance says breathlessly. “I knew it, because all of a sudden you were arguing with Allura, and siding with the Galra — with _Lotor_ — and you were snapping at us and demanding we do things your way and there’s no way you’d ever act like that…”

“I think you’re holding me to too high a standard,” Shiro says, but there’s a funny lift at the corner of his mouth like he’s trying not to look pleased.

“That’s the whole reason I found you here,” Lance answers smugly. “No one else holds you to this kind of standard, so they haven’t noticed…” His heart sinks. He clutches Shiro’s shoulders a little tighter as the full impact of what's happening suddenly hits him. It seems impossible to believe that the Shiro back with the team is the same man. “I don’t know what to do," he says, panic hitting him hard in the chest. "The Shiro with us… he's not real... I mean, he's an imposter…”

“I don’t think he thinks he’s an imposter,” Shiro says. He looks uncomfortable. “But I do think he’s been planted by the Galra. And I think the safest way for them to do that is to convince him that he’s really me.”

“And you think it's worked?" Lance asks in amazement.

“I don’t want to say for sure. But I’ve watched him closely — watched all of you. And I think, for the most part, he’s earnestly trying to do the right thing. He’s just got mixed up ideas about what the right thing is, because the Galra have planted their agenda in his mind. But there was enough of me in him to let him be found — to let him call the Black Lion.”

"And have us believe him," Lance says, feeling sick and guilty.

Shiro pulls himself gently out of Lance’s tight grip. “Let’s walk. It'll clear our heads.”

They walk side by side beneath the stars. Lance isn’t sure it matters where they’re going, or if it’s even possible to go anywhere at all within a space like this.

“Where are we?” he asks.

“I’m not sure, but I’ve been here before. I fought Zarkon here. The Black Lion has access to this place, or this place is within the Black Lion… It’s safe. For now."

"You look like a ghost." Lance holds his own hand in front of his face and watches the stars wink back at him through his transparent palm.

"You're not really here, either," Shiro reminds him. "You're sitting in the Black Lion."

"Yeah," Lance says, and for a moment he feels the pilot's seat beneath him, and it threatens to tug him back, away from Shiro. He clutches at Shiro's arm, afraid that if he doesn't anchor himself, all of this will disappear. "Is your... where's your body?"

"I don't know," Shiro admits worriedly. "When I was here last time, Zarkon said if the mind died, the body died too. I assume it works the other way. I must be alive somewhere."

"So the imposter — d'you think he's in your body?"

"I don't think so," Shiro says, but he sounds unsure. "I think I'd be able to feel it. I think he's completely separate to me."

"He has your memories," Lance says, and he shivers. "He's got everyone fooled, Shiro."

"Except you," Shiro says. 

"Well, yeah." Lance shoots him a grin, and Shiro grins back.

The clouds drift overhead, and they walk quietly for a while. There is silence pressing all around them, but the rock dust under their shoes crunches and slides, and Lance grows warm from the exercise. There are unsettling realities in this ghostly place.

“Hey, is the other Shiro really piloting Black?” he asks curiously. "Or is it you?"

Shiro’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “It's him,” he says. “But Black took a lot of convincing. I tried, but I couldn't make it work from here. In the end we both knew the team was safer with Voltron than without.”

“You’re still making sacrifices for us.”

“It’s about all I can do,” he says. “I’m useless to you here.”

“Pfft,” Lance snorts. “Even when you’re stuck in an astral wasteland, you’ve probably saved our lives a bajillion times.”

Shiro grins, and nudges his shoulder against his.

Lance feels weightless, and happy like he hasn’t in a long time. He thinks he should be worried, or overcome with fear — who is back with the other Paladins? How do they rescue the real Shiro? Is it even possible to bring him back from a place like this? But any plans disintegrate before he can truly put them together — all he can think about is Shiro, walking here beside him, looking more Shiro than he’s ever looked before. He’s so happy he can’t keep the smile off his face.

“You don’t trust Lotor,” Shiro says after a moment.

“You do?” Lance asks in surprise.

Shiro’s jaw tightens. “No. I know Allura wants to trust him. It’s only natural — she wants to remember her Altean heritage, but Lotor knows that too, and he’s using it to manipulate her.”

“She won’t listen to me if I say that,” Lance says, frustration rising within him. “Everyone thinks I’m just… lovesick.” He glances at Shiro, almost embarrassed.

Shiro gives him an easy, patient smile — one Lance hasn’t seen in what feels like years. His chest aches, his heart _hurts._

“I miss you,” he blurts, and he’s mortified to hear it sound so tearful.

“I miss you too,” Shiro murmurs. “And I’m so proud of you, Lance. I’ve been watching you grow into a true leader.”

He can feel himself blushing. “Nah," he says. "I'm just...” He trails off.

“You've really stepped up,” Shiro assures him. “I know Allura sees it too. She’s just a little hesitant to praise you.”

“My fault,” Lance admits easily.

“Hm.” Shiro smiles at him.

“Why didn’t you speak to her?” Lance asks. “In that weird void we were in? Or Pidge? Or Hunk? They’d be better at figuring this stuff out.” He waves his hand at the giant space around them. “Why’d you choose me?”

“My bond with you felt stronger,” Shiro says. He looks uneasy. “Lance… you mean a lot to me, and… And I’ve wanted to keep myself distant, sometimes, because I think sometimes you look at me like I don’t make mistakes…”

“This feels like a mistake,” Lance says, his throat feeling dry. “Shiro, I’m not an engineer or a magical Altean — I can’t get you out of here.”

“Yes you can,” Shiro assures him gently. “I chose you because you were the best choice, Lance. I knew you were starting to doubt things. I knew you were questioning things. And I know… I know you think of me like some great hero, and the fact that you were starting to question my motives…”

“But they’re not your motives!” Lance blurts. “They’re the Galra’s. They’ve just got your face, kind of.” He squints at Shiro, like he’s trying to catch any differences between this Shiro and the one on the ship.

“Questioning your heroes is the mark of a great leader, Lance,” Shiro says. “I know you can do this.”

Lance breathes a heavy sigh and presses the heels of his hands over his eyes for a moment. He snatches them away, suddenly afraid that the entire space will be replaced by the hangar.

Shiro smiles at him again.

“I don’t know what to do,” Lance admits. “I need you back. We all do.” He suddenly realizes the length of time the team has been without him. Without the real him. His throat grows tight and he curses his constant readiness for tears.

“I’m right here,” Shiro assures him. He reaches out and takes Lance’s shoulders, bracing him encouragingly. “Lance, I’m so proud of you.” His thumb brushes a tear from Lance’s cheek.

“I’m so tired,” Lance whispers.

“I know. I wish I could do more to help.”

“No, it’s… you are.” Lance leans on him and Shiro hugs him again, arms tightening around his back, one hand cupping the back of his head gently, fingers sliding through Lance’s short hair. Lance closes his eyes and lets the world slow again. Heartbeats, quiet breath, Shiro’s firm shoulder beneath his cheek.

"I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner," he says.

"It's okay. I know you didn't want to. I know you wanted me to be the way you've always seen me." 

"He's not you. At all. I should have noticed sooner." 

Shiro's fingers curl gently in his hair. "It's all right, Lance."

“What do I do?” Lance asks miserably. “I can’t exactly go back and confront Imposter Shiro. Can I?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Shiro’s voice is low and quiet against his ear. “Honestly, I’m more worried about Lotor.”

“He’s using Allura,” Lance says.

“Yes. I think she’s in danger. I think the best thing to do is bring Keith in again.”

Lance allows himself a theatrical groan, but it turns into something lower and softer when Shiro’s hand gently squeezes the back of his neck.

“You and Allura are both formidable forces in the current arrangement, but your bond is still stronger with Blue,” Shiro says. “We need to be prepared for Lotor trying to distance Allura from the Lions — we need another Paladin. It makes sense to bring Keith back in.”

“He’s off with the Blade,” Lance murmurs into Shiro’s shoulder. He keeps his eyes closed, his weight leaning on him.

“You need to tell him the truth about me,” Shiro says. “About the imposter camped within the team.”

“He won’t believe me.”

“He will. You need to have faith in yourself as a leader, Lance, because you're going to have to lead the way in this.”

Lance almost chokes in his hasty effort to deny himself the role Shiro has placed upon him.

“It’s you,” Shiro insists firmly. “And you can do this. I know you can. But remember, Lance — the team comes first. You have to look out for the others. You have to look out for Voltron, and the people relying on us. I’m not expecting to get out of here anytime soon.”

Lance stares at him in dismay. “I’ll get you out as soon as I can.”

“I know,” Shiro says. “But the team comes first.”

Lance swallows. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, the team comes first.” His fingers tighten on Shiro. He doesn’t want to let him go.

Shiro’s thumb strokes his cheek again, though Lance isn't crying anymore. He finds himself leaning into the touch. There’s still an ache inside him.

“I don’t want to leave you here.”

“I’m fine,” Shiro whispers. “I don’t know how Black is doing it, but I'm safe here, and I’m not left wanting anything except to be back with all of you.”

“I’ll bring you back as soon as I can,” Lance promises. “I’ll talk to Keith, and together we’ll figure something out. I’ll keep Allura and the others safe.”

“I know you will. You have the makings of a real hero inside you.”

Lance chokes a short laugh. “That was a cheap shot, Shiro.”

Shiro grins. “I couldn’t resist. How does it feel to be somebody’s hero?”

“Your hero? It feels great.”

“No pressure?”

Lance pulls away a little. “Is that what I was doing to you? Putting pressure on you? I didn’t mean to. I just — I followed your career since joining the Garrison; I wanted to be just like you.”

Shiro grazes the pad of his thumb over Lance’s mouth to silence him. “I know. But you’re better as yourself, Lance. You’re doing great.”

“I’ve been worshipping you for all these years, something was bound to rub off,” Lance says solemnly, and he grins when Shiro laughs.

Shiro rests his forehead against Lance’s and closes his eyes. His hand is still cupping the back of Lance’s neck, his other thumb strokes along his jaw gently. “You’re doing great,” he whispers again. “You’re saving the universe.”

“You first,” Lance insists. “You first, and then the universe.”

“You really haven't listened to a single word I've said."

Lance hugs him tightly and doesn't argue, though in his mind he's passionately swearing to do whatever it takes to bring Shiro back. The universe can divide him up into a million little pieces, and Lance will track down every single fragment and put him back together again. 

"How much longer before I have to go back?" Lance asks softly.

"I don't know." 

"Nobody else has found you here?"

"Not yet." 

Lance thinks about how often he thinks of Shiro. Thinks about the imbalance he's felt since he disappeared from the Black Lion. Thinks about that hollowness in his chest. 

"I'm sorry I never told you how important you are to me," Shiro says suddenly. His voice is rough. He clears his throat, and Lance thinks how funny it is to have him so ghostly and so real all at once. 

"You've told me," he says confidently.

"Not as often as I should have," Shiro says, and his palm cups Lance's cheek. 

When Shiro kisses him, it’s with the same determination and dedication he seems to show in everything. Lance’s knees tremble and he clutches at his shoulders eagerly, leaning in, remembering the suave bravado he’d tried to show in all of his kisses with girls back on Earth. But Shiro slows him down; grazes his teeth gently so he gasps and opens his mouth. His thumb presses gently so Lance tilts his head back a little, and Shiro steps closer, closer, drawing him in and holding him tightly, kissing him until they’re both breathless and all Lance can do is whisper his name softly.

Shiro kisses the corner of his mouth and rests his brow on Lance’s shoulder, and they stand there, catching their breath and holding tightly to one another.

The stars swim and twinkle silently all around them.

 

* * *

 

The ship is dark and quiet. Lance steals along the corridor towards his bedroom, wondering if it's possible for his lips to be flushed with the rough sweetness of Shiro’s kisses when they all happened in a secret mind void. Black had carefully drawn him back, and the loss of Shiro’s touch had made him breathless and homesick.

He has renewed determination and a new mission: to find Keith; to tell him about the astral plane and Shiro being trapped there; to explain that the Galra has planted a clone of some kind in their midst… 

He rounds a corner and pulls up short.

Shiro. The other Shiro. The imposter Shiro.

“H-hey,” Lance says. “Hey, what are you doing up?”

“A headache,” Shiro says vaguely. “It’s just… I can’t get rid of this headache…”

Lance stands in front of him. He doesn’t want to feel sorry for him, and yet he finds he can't help it. It’s hard to imagine him as an enemy, even after all of his suspicions have been confirmed. It’s hard to believe he’s working against them.

“We’ll figure it out,” he assures Shiro. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this.”

“Yeah.” Shiro leans against the wall. His shoulders are slumped. “Thanks, Lance. I’m sorry things aren’t going the way they should.”

“It’s okay,” Lance says softly. “Don’t beat yourself up.” He can feel himself slipping into another skin — someone who has to pretend everything is fine, and as it was before all of this happened. Someone who has to treat this Shiro as the real Shiro. Someone who will eventually have to convince the entire team that this _isn’t_ Shiro. Someone who will overcome another of the Galra’s plans. Someone who can lead everything back to where it should be.

And he will. He will overcome Lotor, and he will overcome the Galra, and he will bring Shiro home.

"Why are you up so late?" the other Shiro asks.

The weight of his responsibility settles over Lance like a cloud. “I needed to clear my head," he says. "It worked. I feel like myself again now."

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Man is a little world. For, just like the Whole, he possesses both mind and reason, both a divine and a mortal body. He is also divided up according to the universe. It is for this reason, you know, that some are accustomed to say that his consciousness corresponds with the nature of the fixed stars.
> 
> \-- Proclus
> 
> ___
> 
> Tumblr user @ifellfromtheskies has posted some gorgeous Fanart based on this fic, [**here**](https://ifellfromtheskies.tumblr.com/post/172742259074/). Thank you so much! ♥


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